


Finger On The Trigger (the inside out remix)

by roachpatrol



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Body Horror, M/M, Multi, Ouroboros Mix, Psychological Horror, Rape, Rape Fantasy, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachpatrol/pseuds/roachpatrol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fantasy: Dave doesn’t leave a block as soon as you enter it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finger On The Trigger (the inside out remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spacefille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacefille/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Automatic Reflex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/541171) by [Spacefille](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacefille/pseuds/Spacefille). 



A fantasy: you join the Threshecutioners. You conceal your blood, and rise through the ranks. You make friends, you are respected by your comrades, you dare to hope. You dare to let your guard down. You get caught. You get stabbed out on a mission, or make a mistake in a sparring match, or maybe you just trip over someone in the barracks and get scratched by their horn. But they all rise against you, betrayed. All this time you dared walk among them, dared to wear their uniform, dared to breathe their air, dared to count yourself as their equal. 

And they make you pay for your presumption. They take you by the horns and the hands and tie you to a weapons rack or something, their hands cruel—contemptuous, vengeful—and then comes that final touch, the one to the nape of the neck that trips your oldest instincts and you submit. Helpless, hopeless, burning with shame and need, you submit. 

They take turns.

*

A fantasy: Dave doesn’t leave a block as soon as you enter it. 

*

CG: STRIDER. 

CG: STRIDER, PLEASE. ANSWER ME FOR ONCE. 

*

A fantasy: you never play the Game. You just stay in your hive, venturing out less and less, till your skin forgets the feel of starlight and your hands forget the feel of a sickle’s grip. It’s pointless; your whole existence is pointless. The fact that something like you ever got hatched is a strange little joke told when no one was around to care. You linger on through the endless empty seasons, watching your neighbors growing up, making alliances, wondering about you. Wondering what your deal is.

And one day, someone kicks in your door. 

You struggle, of course. You strike out with weak hands, uncoordinated limbs, undeveloped horns. You’ve made it seven, eight, nine utterly pointless sweeps, and living is a hard habit to shake. The body has needs. The blood has wants. You’ve made it this far running on hope, desperate stupid hope that someday someone might just fucking answer you, tell you what you’re _for._

Their hands on your shoulders. Their harsh breath in your ear. Finally, finally, the punchline to your whole stupid life.

You surrender. 

*

CG: ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? 

TG: were we ever friends 

*

A fantasy: you are worth anyone’s friendship. 

*

CG: I GUESS NOT. 

TG: there you go then 

CG: OKAY BUT 

CG: COULD WE BE FRIENDS? 

*

A fantasy: you blow up at Gamzee. He just keeps distancing himself and nothing you can do keeps him around, not the papping or the shooshing or the fussing or the hunting him down. He leaves you alone for longer and longer and finally you can’t take it anymore, and after a perigee’s absence you come across him wandering down some hallway, hands in pockets, not a care in the world, and you slap him. You tell him it’s over. You lie and you tell him you don’t love him, you’ve never loved him.

That does it: he looks at you. He really looks at you, hurt and angry. You scream and shove and claw at him, your moirail, the first kid ever to really _need_ you, and this is twisted, this is wrong, this is a betrayal, but fury tastes so much sweeter than loneliness. You ruin everything you lay hand to, you sick freak, but when you claw your boyfriend’s face and he cuffs you to the ground at least someone on this rock is fucking _paying attention_.

He’s big and cold and cruel, and he puts you in your place. 

*

TG: quick friendship lesson for you dude friends don’t do what we did to each other 

*

A fantasy: you are worth anyone’s _anything._

*

CG: I’M SORRY. 

TG: wait what 

CG: I’M SO SORRY, OKAY, IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED TO HEAR, I’M ABJECTLY, CHUTE-BLISTERINGLY SORRY. SORRY IS THE SLIME I SQUIRM IN. THE FECULENT OOZE I SECRETE. THE VAST AND UNPLEASANT MOUND I SIT ATOP. DO YOU WANT ME TO PERFORM THIS AGONIZINGLY SINCERE APOLOGY PAGEANT IN PERSON OR SOMETHING? IS MY TEXT-BASED CHAGRIN NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU? GET LALONDE TO BREAK A FEW BOTTLES AND I WILL CRAWL OVER BROKEN GLASS FOR EVER FUCKING SUBMITTING THE DISGUSTING MESS I WAS FOOLISH ENOUGH TO CONSIDER A BODY TO YOUR ATTENTION MUCH LESS 

TG: holy shit 

CG: MAKING YOU TOUCH ME, I’M SO SORRY I EVER MADE YOU DO THAT, NO ONE SHOULD EVER HAVE HAD TO DO THAT I’M SO FUCKING SORRY 

TG: STOP 

TG: just stop 

*

A fantasy: anyone will ever forgive you for yourself.

*

TG: karkat 

TG: bro 

TG: i’m the one who’s sorry okay i’m the sorriest i got here first and called dibs i dibsed the shit out of that choice motherfucker ain’t any room for no more insecure little shitbags with persecution complexes the size of my dick and 

TG: fuck 

TG: of all the times not to make a dick joke i had to go and make a dick joke four for you dave strider golf claps all around 

*

A fantasy: you’re called up to the roof by the girls. Kanaya and Rose have been so into each other for a while now and Terezi’s been so aloof lately, always off doing her own thing, that you’re startled. You haven’t seen any of them in ages. But your blood pusher jumps at the invitation and the second time you read it over you convince yourself it’s not a joke you nearly trip over your own feet getting up the stairs fast enough. You think maybe they’ve made a breakthrough in strategy and want to consult with you, or maybe they finally got around to organizing that book club Kanaya was talking about. Maybe Rose just wants another go at teaching you hacky sack. 

But they’re standing, hand in hand in hand, beneath a pulsing void. The meteor’s threading through a terrible maelstrom of eyes and beaks and worse things, squamous limbs the size of galactic arms twisted into shapes a mortal brain should just never have to fucking deal with ever. 

Kanaya catches one of your hands and her own is so cold, so cold, so cold. Rose takes the other. Terezi draws her sword. There are things inside their skin, dark and moving terrible things, and behind their teeth you see more eyes. 

They cut you in half. The red wet thing inside of your skin, the twisted alien wrongness that was always lurking in the ventricles of your heart, is offered to the gods above: a virgin sacrifice. 

The monsters reach down and they take you up and _oh_ , there’s a likeness. 

*

TG: look can we just pretend like we are now and have always been and will always be friends 

TG: and just 

TG: put this all behind us 

*

A fantasy: Dave comes to you a second time. He touches your body, he pushes you—gasping, whimpering, wanting—to your hands and knees. He hooks his fingers into his waistband. He bares himself to you, and when you reach up to touch you score crimson lines across the softness of his thighs. 

“I hate you so much,” he says, sinking down to your level. “Really, truly, I do. I do.”

*

CG: ONLY IF YOU CONCEDE THAT YOUR OWN PARTICULAR ANATOMICAL MONUMENT TO INADEQUACY PALES IN COMPARISON TO MY FRANKLY *GARGANTUAN* PERSECUTION COMPLEX. 

TG: deal 

**Author's Note:**

>  _So tell me what you want to be_  
>  _Tell me, are you listening?_  
>  _Tell me all the things you felt before you let them inside your head_  
>  _Tell me what you're fighting for_  
>  _Do you have a reason?_  
>  \--Never Heard Of It, "Finger On The Trigger"


End file.
